Trust and Communication

Trust.

Trust, trust, trust....

What a GAINT word for five little letters.

I mean think about it.

To trust someone is to rely on them.

To rely on their;

Strength,

Integrity,

Ability,

Surety,

To be able to be confident in a person with all of your heart.

Trust has always been hard on me.

It's scary for me to put trust in another person, I'm so used to being let down....


(I've learned not to trust people because of group projects in high school...jokes jokes)

Putting my trust in someone means I need to let go of control and let it be.

Let me just say, that's terrifying.


150% terrifying to let go of control.

I wouldn't say I'm a control freak, but I am one of those people that likes to know what's going on and what is happening and knowing fully that it will not change.... (not a way to live.)



Another thing that is scary to me is communication.
To communicate and share feelings with another person.
Not fun for someone who isn't very good at sharing feelings in general.
It's something I have to re-learn. How to vent fully again.
Or how to express my feelings and not shut down because they are "stupid" feelings.
They aren't stupid feelings. They are feelings that I have and need to share, but don't know how to do that yet.

I'm so afraid that if I say the wrong word it will ruin a friendship or ruin the conversation and someone will get mad or hurt or won't talk to me again.

It's scary.

Trust and communication are things I need to work on in life..

If I don't I know it can lead to a life of loneliness and sadness.

Have patience with me and continue to communicate your feelings with me if I am doing this to you.

Because I don't want to ruin a perfectly good relationship because I don't know exactly how to do something yet.



Thanks for reading.

Godspeed <3

All of my feels tonight. Written like those Spoken Word poets.

Where are you when I need you most?
When I'm lying alone,
When I'm crying alone,
When I am alone and want nothing more than your hands wrapped around me telling me I am not ALONE.


The thing with this disease is that my pride takes over.
I'll push you away until I know you don't want to stay.
Because I feel the need to be alone.
Because I feel claustrophobic.
Because my damn pride can't handle the fact that I deserve love.
I deserve someone to hold me when I can't hold myself up,
When my limbs feel too heavy to take one more step.

Where is the Checkered Flag?

Her head seemed to be spinning in circles with how fast she was thinking.

Her mind in a constant cycle of telling herself what she's thinking isn't true and beginning to believe it.

Her thoughts raced and rolled over hills, massive hills of worry and confusion.

Stumbling over repressed memories of past hurts and hardships

Tripping face first over the fact that there were no absolute truth to her thoughts.

Her heart sped like it was in first place in the race of a lifetime.

Her hands shook like she hadn't eaten in days.

Her eyes quickly dart around the room like she's guilty of something.

She prays for the race in her head to stop.

Where's the black and white checkered flag when you need it?

She knew there would be no medal at the end of this race.

There is no charity or sponsorship for this race.

There is no one is becoming aware from it, no cure, no money raised.

She screams internally at her self.

Her mind only sees it as a cheer squad encouraging her to continue the race.

Where's the damn checkered flag when you need it?

Fight Fire With Fire, We All Get Burned...

Fight fire with fire all you do is get burned. 

That's what we all learned as children. 

No matter how far across a line someone may be. 

No matter how many times someone does something. 

You fight them with the same tactics they use, 

or bigger tactics, 

All that happens is more pain. 

More burns. 

More injury, 

Mental and physical. 

It seems as though in today's society that's all we know how to do. 

Fight "fire" with bigger "fire". 

There are some people that will continue to protest 

And tell those fighting fire with fire that this isn't the way it needs to be done. 

There will be others that will support only one side of the story.

There will be accusers.

There will be people who will put the blame on someone that doesn't deserve the blame.

There will be people that will agree that fighting fire with bigger fire will be the best thing for everyone.

There will be people who will continue to say the same thing we were all taught as children. 

Fight fire with fire all you do is get burned.

 

Fight chemical weaponry with drones and missiles.....

It will only create more destruction.... 

You are Free

"My head hurts." She said leaning closer, placing her elbows on her knees.

Her expression changed slightly.

Eyebrows scrunched together.

Eyes staring downward.

Mouth pinched up.

Her thinking face.

She looked at me after a few seconds, breaking her trance temporarily.

"I worry to much." she laughed.

"That's why my head hurts."

"It always hurts when I worry."

She laughed at herself quickly before her eyebrows scrunch again.

She could only look me in the eye for a second before feeling too vulnerable.

"Why is it that some people think too much?" she asked not looking at me.

"Why is that?" she asked again.

"I mean I worry more than anyone I know." she said softly looking me directly in the eye.

She looked down.

"And you, you seem like you are careless and-"

It seemed as though the words got caught in her throat.

I looked at her with concern.

She smiled and shook her head.

"I'm jealous of you." She whispered.

"You are unbothered and I am so worrisome."

"I," she puts her hand directly on her heart, "I'm so confined."

"Like a caged up zoo animal."

"I am jealous of you because you seem so liberated."

She bore her eyes into mine.

Her voice became hushed.

At the same time filled with immense amounts of emotion.

"I am jealous of you because you are free."

I Remember...

I remember days upon days where I couldn't look in the mirror because what I saw in the reflection was something I couldn't stand.

I remember days upon days looking in the mirror forever telling the thing in the reflection hateful things because it was something I couldn't stand.

I remember spending days in a sweatshirt and pants that didn't fit because I didn't feel like I deserved to feel beautiful.

I remember weeks where I would write myself letters, telling myself how unwanted I was because of all the things I've ruined.

I remember not wanting to go to high school dances and school events because I didn't think I deserved to enjoy anything.

I remember settling for community college because I thought I couldn't handle a real college experience.

I remember feeling completely out of control.

I remember hating myself more than anything.

I remember wanting nothing more than to watch myself crash and burn because I thought I didn't deserve any sort of happiness.

I remember almost hitting that line you're not supposed to cross.

I remember screaming telling everyone I just didn't care about myself.

I remember scaring my parents.

I remember scaring my sister.

I remember telling myself this isn't okay.

I remember asking God why I was like this.

I remember asking God why I couldn't love myself.

I remember waking up the next morning and wanting to apologize but couldn't.

I remember telling my mom I needed help.

I remember hugging.

I remember questioning my decision.

I remember continuing to hate myself.

I remember her telling me it will take time for that feeling to go away.

I remember her telling me I was worth something.

I remember her telling me I was made with love.

I remember her telling me, almost in tears, that I was loved.

I remember her telling me that what I've gone through was terrible.

I remember feeling like someone actually understood.

I remember actually, for the first time, being able to talk about it.

I remember beginning to love myself.

I remember relapsing.

I remember hating myself again.

I remember her telling me it happens.

I remember crying.

I remember tissues.

I remember her saying one day you won't relapse.

I remember her telling me God loves me.

I remember her telling me someone will come along and show me love I never experienced.

I remember her saying it's okay to cry.

I remember feeling stuck.

I remember wanting something new.

I remember chopping off my hair.

I remember buying brown boots.

I remember buying a DSLR camera.

I remember buying, and buying, and buying.

I remember singing.

I remember writing a lot.

I remember deleting great works of writing.

I remember a year has past from it all.

I remember being happy to be alive.

I remember being thankful.

I remember saying God has something bigger for me.

I remember saying God will give me something worth loving fully.

I remember surviving.

I remember putting myself back out there.

I remember awkward dinners.

I remember two different hands around me.

I remember buying black boots.

I remember being hurt.

I remember hurting someone else.

I remember typing back and forth until the other fell asleep.

I remember feeling scared.

I remember feeling nervous.

I remember a final pair of hands wrapped around me.

I remember feeling alive.

I remember finally living.

I remember the days that were still filled with self hatred.

I remember her saying your battle isn't over yet.

I remember the words you're not alone.

I remember relapsing.

I remember his words I love you. 

I remember getting through this.

I remember living.

The Rescue- Tyler Ward

You are Loved- Josh Groban

Hope Will Lead Us On- BarlowGirl

I Found My Way Back Again- Nevertheless

My Filing System

I have filing cabinets.
Upon filing cabinets.
Upon filing cabinets.
Upon filing cabinets.

Filing cabinets filled to the brim with memories.
Experiences.
My life history.

Filing cabinets filled with things I don't want to remember.
Things I do want to remember.
Things I  beg myself to forget.

These filing cabinets have held every single moment in my whole life.
These filing cabinets are like the giant pink elephant in the room.

They always just sit there.
Massive.
Papers flying down from the highest one.

There are days when a file from one specific filing cabinet explodes.
Letting itself be known to me again.
Making me read and remember about the memory it held.

Most of the time these filing cabinets have locks on them.
Padlocks.
Wrapped in barbed wiring.
Wrapped in iron chains.

These filing cabinets if seen from far away,
Looks as though they're holding a monster.

To me they kind of are...
To me my memories are my monster.

My memories hold my secrets.
My mistakes.
My misunderstandings.

It's like these filing cabinets are a security blanket.
A ghostly security blanket,
Haunting me.
Stalking me.
Waiting until the locks had rusted off
Ready to explode.

I have filing cabinets.
Filing cabinets that hold every single moment of my life.
I have filing cabinets that sit with me like a giant pink elephant.

They always just sit there.